Here's another weekly potpourri of thoughts and observations about breaking news and Valley things both great and small . . .

This AudioBlogColumn is brought to you by Murphy's Drone Landing Pads. Located out behind the old drive-in theater, Murphy's Drone Landing Pads provides delivery drones of all types and sizes a safe and uniquely identifiable landing pad for your retail site or household. Just place one of Murphy's Landing Pads outside and stand the heck back because "It could be curtains! Or dishes! Or a double boiler! Or it could be (Yes, it could be. . . Yes, you're right, it surely could be) somethin' special (Somethin' very, very special now) Just for you!" *

Last week we learned to our profound dismay that our efforts to land a gig in the world of funded and nationally recognized UAS sites have been in vain. Apparently dimwittedness, obliviousness, and rank politics kicked in where farsightedness, good judgment and technology should have held sway.

That said, I am sure that you, dear reader, are prepared to rationalize our misfortune by suggesting that a) It's probably all for the best, really, and b) Who needs the FAA anyway? OK. That persistent hollow feeling in your gut affirms the utter uselessness of rationalizations. I, on the other hand, am reminded of a true (and perhaps palliative) tale from the ancient and copious lore of Sidewinder. Yes, Sidewinder, as in air-to-air infrared guided missile Sidewinder, the most effective guided missile that the world has ever known and a missile that we here in the Indian Wells Valley had to extract from the thinnest of organizational thin air during times of dimwitted Naval ambivalence and oblivious fiscal imperatives. It's a tale of heartbreak, persistence and transcendence. And it sort of begins where a couple of us young engineers are boosting a negligee-wearing secretary up to the top of one of the Trona Pinnacles. Listen . . . It all happened like this:

The USAF used a different Sidewinder than the USN. And there were an alphabet soup of variants developed since the '50s. Since engineers were involved the missile design was constantly changing anyway and the Ruskies were playing catchup with disturbing efficiency. In those days China Lake was the executive activity for the missile, and encouraged by defense spending belt-tightening some creative design consolidation was happening just as I came onboard. The venerable AIM-9L was conceptually coming together but a lot of stakeholder arm-twisting was ahead before we could actually coax into the fleet a reliable and effective air-to-air missile with the "electronic complexity of a table model radio and the mechanical complexity of a washing machine." So here's what we did:

Page 2 of 2 - We made a movie, what else?

I got involved because I was a newbie engineer who happened to be taking a tour in the Technical Information Department (TID). The great thing was that it was a funny movie and I got a cameo in it. Actually, it was a bit too funny, but more on that later.

The script called for a scene like the one that was appearing on a Mercury car commercial around that time where some glamorous woman in a flowing negligee stood adoringly next to the Mercury on top of a high Arizona mesa in some vast desert, all with beautiful music and the camera flying by. It set a standard that all other car commercials aspired to and the script writer for our Sidewinder commercial wanted it in our movie (except that we would use the tallest of the Trona Pinnacles, instead of an Arizona mesa, a Sidewinder missile instead of a Mercury car, and we'll con some good-looking secretary to do the negligee thing). What could go wrong?

Everything went wrong. It was wintertime and it was very cold because the director wanted this to be a dramatic "desert sunrise scene." Though our brave secretary in flesh-colored tights under a flowing negligee was finally boosted up to the top of the pinnacle along with the missile, the chopper carrying the cameraman flew in a bit too close and the prop wash almost blasted them both off the pinnacle. She quit on the spot, donned a parka she had under the missile stand and started climbing down, reportedly cussing like a sailor. A small part of that scene actually made it into the movie.

The movie was named "A Bird In The Hand" and (in a way) it "went viral." That happened because some Admiral in NAVAIR thought it was over-the-top goofy and refused to release it. And that was all it took. Bootlegged copies of "A Bird In The Hand" got a wider distribution than any stiff approved funding promotion ever might have.

Over time, it helped convince the real decision-makers of our detailed strategy, and the AIM-9L Sidewinder (the one shown proudly exploding in our civic center) went on to become "just a bangbeat, bell-ringing, big-haul, great-go, neck-or-nothing, rip-roaring, every-time-a bull's-eye MISSILE!"*

*With apologies to Meredith Willson's "Music Man."

That has been this week's AudioBlogColumn, and this is Skip Gorman (skippergorman@gmail.com) returning you all now back to a quieter and gentler place.